


Care to Join Us

by demonkatgurl17



Series: Painted [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hair-pulling, HaleCest, Knotting, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Season/Series 03A Spoilers, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 03:50:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2176881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonkatgurl17/pseuds/demonkatgurl17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles stumbles across a surprising encounter. Then stays to play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Care to Join Us

**Author's Note:**

> OMG I feel so bad about not getting more fic updates out this summer. Lot of crazy/tragic shit went down in my family and that combined with lethargy and lack of writing enthusiasm just made made my progress fall flat on its face and I feel horrible. Hoping to make some progress in my Jagged series since it's now the longest without an update, but I wanted to throw out this little porny bit that I've had partly sewn together for a while now.

 

Before the elevator doors had fully opened, Stiles shoved his way into the dingy compartment, his fingers finding and pressing into the button for the top floor more times than absolutely necessary. He was on edge, impatient as the doors slowly reclosed around him just before it made its laborious way up and up and up.

Stiles bounced nervously on his heels—letting his anxiety find _some_ kind of release—aware of the fast beat of his heart and the sweat on his skin, of the overly _clean_ feeling inside himself left over from when he’d flushed himself with his enema hours ago when Peter had texted him, asking him to do it.

But now, instead of being in Peter’s apartment, he was on his way up to Derek’s loft, rerouted from where he’d _originally_ been heading before receiving an emergency text from the older man, saying that he’d found Derek and urgently needed Stiles to come to the loft.

Filled with nervous energy and fearing the worst, Stiles had turned his Jeep around, his mind going through scenario after scenario (each bloodier than the last) as he went through gears with less than his usual care.

Whatever it was, it had to be important. Peter had yet to bail on their ‘play times’—not that there had been all that many, thus far—and Stiles had a feeling that people needed to be dying in order to divert the older man’s attention from his own cock (he was kind of narcissistic like that).

Which was why, when the elevator finally shuddered to a halt, Stiles battered his way through the widening gap of the doors and jogged into the main room of the loft, his gaze darting all over. Nothing, no one lying in pool of blood, no one _period_ , which meant that either no one was here or that they were in another part of the loft, like the upper floor or the niche that served as Derek’s ‘room’.

Putting off climbing the spiral staircase, Stiles lengthened his stride, fast approaching the opposite end of the loft, his shoes skidding slightly on the concrete floor as he made a sharp turn at the hole in the brick wall and—

Stiles came to an abrupt halt, his brain fighting to process the sight on Derek’s bed.

At least he wasn’t the only one who looked surprised.

Completely naked on the bed lay Peter and Derek, the latter scrambling to pull the coverlet half over himself while Peter obligingly moved out of the way. Not like it mattered. The image of Derek being sucked off by his own uncle had already been seared into Stiles’s brain, running on a loop in Stiles’s head.

He didn’t have heightened senses like the other two, but if he did, he imagined that he would be deafened by the quick pounding of his own heart, startled by what he’d walked in on.

“Look who finally showed up to the party,” Peter casually drawled over his shoulder, as though he hadn’t just wiped spittle off of his chin from _blowing his nephew_.

Derek jerked his attention away from where Stiles stood like a deer caught in headlights to stare at Peter in confused betrayal. “You knew he was coming?” he hissed through gritted teeth, obviously upset about being found in such a compromising position.

“I invited him,” Peter said mischievously. He tugged on the blanket Derek was shielding himself with, the material stretching taut for a moment before the alpha grudgingly allowed it to slip away, revealing Derek’s slightly-flagging erection.

From the instant the blanket slid off of Derek’s lap, Stiles’s eyes were glued to the thick girth of the alpha’s cock, jutting proudly from the thatch of dark curling hair around it. He was a few meters away, but Stiles felt sure that Derek’s cock was about as long as Peter’s, though maybe a bit thicker, his skin flushing darker…

It was still gorgeous and Stiles found himself reacting, his own cock swelling up to press against the zipper of his jeans.

“How about we let him join,” Peter stage-whispered coaxingly, his eyes roaming over Stiles as much as Derek’s were. “You can practically _taste_ the desire coming off him. How much he wants it...”

A flush rose on Stiles’s face and he shivered under the predatory gaze of both men. He felt like a bug under a magnifying glass, his arousal painfully evident to their supernaturally keen senses of smell, because there was _no way_ they could miss how aroused he was. And from the way Derek’s eyes wandered down Stiles’s torso and remained focused on his crotch, Stiles thought it was a fair bet that the outline of his erection was visible, too.

But underneath his urges was a feeling that he was unwelcome here, definitely not from Peter, but from Derek, who hadn’t known or agreed to Stiles waltzing into his loft. People have secrets and most don’t like having them found out and this? —this was the kind of thing that some would _kill_ to keep quiet. As often as Derek turned to violence as a solution, Stiles was starting to feel wary of how intently Derek was looking at him, of the tight set of his jaw, of the bunched up muscles in Derek’s arms and torso.

Alright, it was a fairly even mixture of worry and arousal, but it wasn’t Stiles’s fault that he was attracted to guys who could _literally_ tear him apart.

That thought shouldn’t turn him on so much.

“I, uh, I’m okay,” Stiles stuttered, shuffling a foot backwards carefully. “Actually, I should probably just, y’know….leave you guys to it. Not that there’s anything here to do. Or see. Nothing to see here. So…I’ll just go and let you continue doing…nothing,” he finished awkwardly, still backing up molasses-slow, as though Peter and Derek (mostly Derek) were man-eating tigers and a swift retreat would bring their claws down upon him.  

His fear wasn’t completely off-base. He still had the occasional nightmare where he woke up as his dream-self was gutted or mutilated by a moon-crazed werewolf (more often than not, the wolf was someone he knew and not just a faceless monster).

But escape didn’t seem to be in the cards because Peter slid off the bed and slinked towards him, entirely at ease with his state of nudity.

Stiles was ok with naked-Peter, even as he was wary of naked-Derek. Naked-Peter usually had a mesmerizing effect on Stiles, showing off all the delicious places that the teen longed to touch, that he himself longed to have touched…

His dick throbbed eagerly as it anticipated having the older man’s hands on it (as things usually ended up when Peter stripped down to nothing).

So, naturally, Stiles had frozen in place as Peter got closer and closer, invading his space, pressing his body in a warm line against Stiles’s from knee to torso. Stiles was about to start babbling again when Peter leaned in and captured his lips in a rough kiss.

Whether it was because he was so new to another’s touch or because Peter had an addictive effect on him, Stiles didn’t know, but either way he was soon melting into Peter’s kiss, whimpering faintly when the older man got a grip on his hair and tugged, drawing Stiles’s head back enough to nip and suck at the teen’s throat.

It wasn’t until Peter’s other wandering hand rested on Stiles’s ass, guiding him to grind against Peter’s bare thigh, that Stiles felt a nagging sensation, like he was forgetting something important.

A strangled groan from behind Peter only intensified the feeling until reality caught up with him: Derek was just across the room.

Oh, god…

And here he was, humping Peter’s leg like a bitch in heat.

His eyes snapped open—he hadn’t remembered closing them—sliding his gaze down from the ceiling to the man on the bed.

Stiles nearly choked.                                                                                                           

Staring at them from across the room, Derek languidly stroked his fully recovered erection, and his face—

Stiles had never seen Derek look at him like that, like the alpha wanted to eat him up. Literally.

“Look at him,” Peter whispered in his ear, not that it really mattered when Derek could hear things that were on the other side of the freaking loft, much less couple meters away. “Look at how much he wants you.”

_Me?_ Stiles thought dazedly. He was having trouble believing that the desire on Derek’s normally-scowling face was meant for _him_ , that _he_ was he reason that droplets of precome were dripping down the alpha’s shaft, making each pump slick and easy. Unconsciously, he pawed at Peter, his fingers sliding over the man’s skin, wanting to touch something, wanting to touch _Derek_ , but he didn’t know what to say that would get him _there_ and not thrown out on his face.

Peter—clever, intuitive Peter—seemed to understand did all the work for him, pulling away to walk back to the bed dragging Stiles along by his wrist, who was so overwhelmed that he followed like an obedient puppy. At the edge of the bed, Peter abandoned his hold and slid into the mess of covers next to Derek, leaving Stiles to stand awkwardly by himself, almost sweating from how inadequate he felt.

These two living works of art wanted _him_ to join _them?_

What a joke.

While Stiles fidgeted nervously, warring with his self-doubt, Peter gave Derek a sidelong expectant look until the alpha rolled his eyes.

Stiles didn’t have time to interpret the silent conversation because, without warning Derek had moved to kneel in front of him at the edge of the mattress, so close that precome slicking his cock could smear onto Stiles’s shirt if he were to lean forward a few more inches. The scent of sweat and musk fogged Stiles’s brain and he had to blink several times until he could focus properly on Derek’s face (not just on his mouth).

“Do you want this?” Derek asked, his tone far gentler than Stiles had ever heard.

That alone stayed the cocky answer on the tip of his tongue. The words seemed to stick in his throat, forcing him to nod helplessly, pleading with his eyes for the alpha to tell him what to do because his mind had gone completely blank. His limbs felt as useless and ungainly as clubs, and Stiles cringed inside, feeling his teenage body was inadequate in comparison to the _man_ before him.

He was kind of terrified to initiate anything, in case this was all an elaborate con to get his hopes up and then shatter them on the floor.

Derek’s lips twitched in a shadow of a smile. Did he have a clue as to what was going on in Stiles’s head?

Stiles stopped breathing entirely when the alpha reached up, his hand curling around the back of Stiles’s neck and tugging him forward into a soft kiss, surprising the teen.

Stiles heard a tiny whimper and it took him a second to realize it had come from himself. He’d have felt more embarrassed if Derek wasn’t giving his bottom lip little kittenish licks, teasing Stiles’s mouth open. At the first touch of Derek’s tongue against his own, Stiles unconsciously leaned forward, pressing as much of his body against the alpha as he could, wanting to feel more of him.

Derek seemed to like how the teen melted in his arms, if his pleased hum was anything to go by. At least his wasn’t pushing away.

Something hard and thick nudged Stiles’s hip, distracting him enough to break the kiss, look down, and just about have a heart attack at the sight of _Derek Hale’s cock_ leaving white viscous smears on his t-shirt.

“Should probably take your clothes off before they get messed up,” Derek said, not sounding the least bit sorry about the trails he’d already left.

“Uh, y-yeah,” Stiles stammered, quick to agree even though he could care less about the state of his clothes. Peter and Derek _both_ could take turns painting his shirt with their come and Stiles would count himself as one lucky guy. But then his shirt was being pulled over his head and a pair of hands was at his belt before Stiles’s eagerness to join the party reared its head.

It was a good thing Derek had superhuman strength and speed, otherwise Stiles was pretty sure they’d have both tumbled to the floor when the teen wobbled erratically, trying to take off his shoes and socks at the same time Derek was sliding down his jeans, forcing the alpha to steady him.

“Easy,” Peter lazily admonished, watching them both with obvious amusement. “No need to rush.”

Seriously? Stiles was sure he’d explode if the wind caught him just right—and if that _did_ happen, he at least wanted the excuse of having their hands on him.

Finally, Stiles managed to kick away his shoes and the tangle his clothing had become, leaving him standing bare in the slight chill of the loft. He opened his mouth, intending to ask how this was all going to work, but he ended up closing it, not wanting to say something stupid in front of his current and soon-to-be lovers.

“Hey,” Derek breathed, catching Stiles’s wavering attention. “It’s ok.” Derek wrapped his hand around Stiles’s wrist and shuffled backwards on his knees, making the teen crawl onto the bed with him and sprawl between the two adults.

That didn’t exactly make Stiles any less intimidated.

But thankfully he wasn’t allowed to focus on how cornered he felt because lips were on his neck before he quite realized that Peter had moved, and Stiles sighed, his eyes drifting shut as the older man nibbled and sucked along his jugular, relaxing even as he felt Derek’s hands start to trail over his torso.

Lips pressed against his and Stiles responded instinctively, melting into Derek’s slow, deep kiss, his hands tentatively moving over the alpha’s chest.

If Stiles had to describe what bliss felt like, it probably would have involved an unhealthy amount of praise for the Hale family’s skillful mouths. Though when a hand curled around his cock, Stiles’s opinion on bliss changed dramatically.

_“Mmph!”_ Stiles’s moan was muffled against Derek’s mouth as he bucked up into the loose grip to try to get more friction, friction that the alpha didn’t seem to feel Stiles needed as he stroked up and down, not quite making a fist around the teen’s sensitive flesh.

Stiles couldn’t see Peter’s lips twist into a wicked grin, but he could feel the huff of breath on his neck from the man’s barely audible chuckle, and a surge of spite had Stiles reaching over blindly to grasp Peter’s own erection, squeezing almost too-tightly.

He smiled against Derek’s lips at Peter’s sharp inhale. _Got you_ , he thought, relishing in his minor victory. _See how much_ you _like to be teased._

But even Stiles knew that small battles don’t win wars, and from the tiny growl Peter sent him, he knew it was far from over.

Peter angled down to take Stiles’s nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it and teasing it with his teeth, making Stiles break the kiss as he rocked more insistently into Derek’s not-quite-there grip, the alpha leaning back to hungrily watch Stiles’s face. A particularly hard suck drew a whimper from Stiles, the teen squeezing the prize in his hand all the more tightly for it, then Peter released him, and in his relief, Stiles’s grip eased up too, which Peter immediately seized upon, yanking Stiles’s hand off of him and pinning the teen’s wrist above his head.

“ _Cute_ ,” Peter breathed down at him, his eyes bright with satisfaction at having bested the teen.

Not that Stiles was shocked or anything. Peter seemed to get a twisted kick out of outsmarting people— friends, foes, and lovers alike. The play-fighting in some of his and Peter’s little meet-ups had ground in that much knowledge of the man. Though, not much else, really.

But he wasn’t about to let Peter crow his victory when Stiles was in a mood to move things along.

Releasing the grip he’d had on Derek’s shoulder since the man had wrapped his hand around Stiles’s cock, Stiles made a quick reach for Peter, somehow knowing that his hand wouldn’t land, but was surprised when it was Derek and not Peter who snatched him by the wrist and pinned it above his head alongside its mate.

That Derek had let go of his cock to do it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Stiles and he undulated minutely on the bed, missing the touch, though enjoying the feeling of being held down between two men who could each handle him one-handed and alone, much less as a team.

Derek and Peter on the same team. That sounded weird even inside Stiles’s head.

“Y’know, two against one isn’t fair. Especially when it’s you two.”

“Oh, I don’t think you mind very much,” Peter said, flicking an amused glance over at Derek. “But if you want,” he continued, a smirk pulling at his lips, “we can definitely _make_ this unfair…” He trailed off, his head moving lower and lower until his lips were once again hovering over Stiles’s peaked, abused nipple. He used the nub to trace the outline of his lips, making the soft skin drag tantalizingly slow over the nub before, without warning, sucking it into his mouth.

Stiles inhaled sharply, biting back any sound he might’ve made as Peter worked on him. He didn’t want to make things _that_ easy for the older man.

But then Derek was leaning down, his eyes half-closed in want as he teased Stiles’s other nipple, licking and mouthing at it as opposed to the outright suction that his uncle was dishing out.

Under the onslaught of _two_ mouths, Stiles felt his resolve to keep quiet crack and then shatter at the hint of someone’s teeth and he groaned, his hips bucking up and thrusting against air, jolts of pleasure going off in his groin at the attention to his nipples.

_“Please_ ,” Stiles gasped out after a minute. “Please, more. I need more.” He was teetering on the cusp of orgasm, but without a push, Stiles felt he might stay there forever.

Red flared to life in Derek’s eyes, blocking out their normal green hazel color. “You get more when we _say_ you get more,” he rasped out sternly, his voice just above a growl. Derek’s grip tightening on Stiles’s wrist as he reclaimed the flesh he’d abandoned, sucking on it in earnest this time, making the teen whimper briefly.

Stiles bit his lip to distract himself.

And to try to keep quiet.

Derek hadn’t expressly told him to not speak, but the dominating edge the alpha was projecting made Stiles want to obey. And since begging clearly wasn’t going to get him anywhere, he stubbornly refused to make a fool of himself by carrying on—like his mouth usually did when he wanted something. Peter liked to make him beg, but he was also quick with rewarding Stiles for good behavior.

It was too early to tell what Derek’s kinks were, but Stiles hoped that prolonged denial wasn’t one of them.

Stiles’s lip felt bruised from his teeth by the time someone touched his cock and his eyes rolled back in pleasure. He didn’t know or care who it was that was stroking him, he just prayed that they didn’t stop. After only a few hand strokes, the breath seemed to go out of Stiles entirely as his body convulsed, trying to curl in on itself, but a strong hand clamped around his thigh, holding him down as semen shot all over his stomach and chest.

Spent, Stiles could do little more than lie back and breathe for several moments, even when he felt Derek and Peter let go of his wrists and shift about on the bed. Fuck that had been good. Not quite a toe-curler, but the way his orgasm had just hit him like that was great and he happily basked in the rush flowing through his blood stream.

Twin sensations of warmth and light pressure on his stomach enticed Stiles into lazily opening his eyes and what he saw didn’t disappoint him. Peter was daintily lapping up stray droplets that were sliding down Stiles’s side while Derek trailed a few fingers in the mess that had pooled on his belly.

All Stiles needed was some corny 70’s background music and he’d swear up and down that he was in a real-life porno.

His softening cock gave a feeble twitch.

God he hoped they weren’t done with him yet.

A nip of teeth on his ribs was unexpected and he jerked. “Careful with the teeth, Fido,” Stiles half-heartedly griped at Peter, aware that part of him enjoyed the sting.

“Oh you _are_ a tease today,” Peter laughed, delighted. “But I’m afraid that _I’m_ not the one who has to watch his teeth.” Playfully, he nipped at another spot, daring Stiles to keep protesting.

Derek sent his uncle a trace of a scowl, as if unhappy for the reminder.

Stiles was inwardly grateful for it though. It would be too easy for a slip of teeth from the alpha to actually break skin and give the teen something to _really_ worry about. He might like to ‘play’ with werewolves, but that didn’t make him eager be one himself.

He had enough issues with control as it was.

Derek, though, seemed to have oodles of control—and liked having it if the little thing with Stiles’s wrist was anything to go by. Stiles wondered if he’d always been like that or if it was something that came with being an alpha. Was he always the “top dog” when it came to sex?

Curiosity stuck Stiles.

Did Derek top _Peter?_

Honestly, Stiles wasn’t quite sure _what_ to think about Derek and his _uncle_ getting it on, even though he did find the fantasy (and the apparent reality) of it to be more than a little hot. Hell, Stiles had fantasized a lot about the both of them, but he could only recall a handful of times where the two men were _both_ in the same scenario, and they were never, like, _together_ -together.

They hadn’t exactly bothered to give him any new information, but from the way they weren’t shying away from one another—as well as from the blowjob he’d walked in on—Stiles didn’t think that today was a first for them.

“So, uh, you guys do this often?” Stiles asked, proud when it only came out sounding like a question and not an accusation.

He and Peter hadn’t talked about exclusivity or anything and he wasn’t jealous, per se, about Peter messing around with other people, but he _was_ curious how the thing with his own nephew had come into being. Given their past alone, Stiles was always kind of surprised that the alpha willingly let Peter into his home, much less around his sensitive bits.

And as much as Stiles wanted to keep touching, half of him was still trying to wrap around the idea of Derek and Peter naked together.

“No,” Peter said, when Derek just sat there staring in constipated shock at Stiles, as though the teen had asked him to give up state secrets. “This is a fairly recent…development, you could say. I’ve never touched him or the rest of my family members before, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

He was almost defensive for someone who proclaimed to not care about what people thought of him.

It was kind of endearing.

“We’re just…expanding the possibilities of our current ‘relationship’,” Peter continued reasonably, as though everyone rationalized away incest.

Stiles was pretty sure that this type of situation was abnormal, even by werewolf standards.

If you could count _anything_ that happened in Beacon Hills _normal—_ which Stiles really didn’t. The problem was that Stiles was actually more okay with this than he might have imagined. What did that say about him?

Derek cleared his throat softly, dragging the teen’s attention away from his uncle. “The option is open whether you want to ‘play’ with us. Together. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. We’ll respect your choice either way. That needs to be said before anything goes any further. Since it hasn’t been discussed yet,” Derek said, looking pointedly at Peter, who merely shrugged.

“He knows he has a choice. He chose to stay,” Peter said flatly.

“After you riled him up from the moment he walked in.”

“You weren’t exactly telling him to leave when you were helping him take his clothes off,” Peter said, looking almost bored at the flair of accusation.

“I’m staying.”

Derek and Peter looked down at him, both startled out of their argument before it had really taken off.

Stiles wondered if they had briefly forgotten he was there. “I want in…whatever this is,” he continued. “I’m staying. If you guys want me to leave, then you’re gonna have to, like, _tell me_ , ‘cause unless the bathroom or food is involved, I don’t think I’m gonna want to leave the bed any time soon.”

The two older men just looked at each other, apparently having a silent conversation. Whatever the question was over must have been settled because Peter smiled devilishly and turned his attention back to Stiles.

“And how can we possibly make your stay more _comfortable?_ ” he purred, a hand wandering out to stroke Stiles’s hip.

His body must have had enough of a break because soon Stiles’s cock was filling up again, eager at the prospect of _more_.

“Well, I’d have to say I’m pretty comfortable, but then again I’ve also gotten a load out. You guys, though,” he waved his hand at their laps, where their own cocks were still hard and heavy, waiting for release, “I’m kind of worried about you. You’ve been hard for _way_ longer than me. Those have to be hurting.”

“I know _I_ wouldn’t mind a release, but if _Derek_ gets much further along,” Peter drawled lazily, nodding towards his nephew’s lap, “then he’ll have biology to contend with.”

“That’s only when I’m _inside_ someone,” Derek said, nearly cutting Peter off.

It took a second for that to sink in, and when it did, Stiles’s mind nearly overloaded.

“You want to fuck me.” He said it as a statement because it was obvious. Or at least Stiles wanted it to be obvious. God only knows how many times Stiles had come, thinking about the alpha taking him. He wasn’t sure whether he had a werewolf thing or a Hale thing.

Derek was silent, his eyes roving over Stiles’s body before finally he nodded. “Yeah.” He placed a hand on the inside of one of Stiles’s splayed thighs and gently petted it, not stroking high enough to touch the teen’s cock, but certainly close enough to get his attention.

The touch was making Stiles’s legs start to tremble, fantasies of all the things those fingers could do to him running together in his head, vying for attention. Stiles took a deep calming breath, trying to get himself under control again.

“Yeah, you could do that,” Stiles said, going for nonchalance, but the faint tremor in his voice kind of ruined it.

The bed shifted beside him, reminding Stiles that Peter was still there (which, awkward? Stiles had essentially given the man’s nephew permission to fuck him). Peter, to his credit, didn’t look jealous or bothered by the request. In fact, he had reached over to the table on his side of the bed and was settling back on the bed with a tube of lubricant that he had pulled out of a drawer.

“You don’t mind the lack of condoms, do you Derek? I prefer to not use them when he’s clean. Had him flush himself out not long before I sent him that last text.”

Derek, who had seemed ready to jump Stiles’s bones, looked over at Peter quizzically. “’Flush himself out’?”

“Yes.” Peter nudged the teen. “Turn over. Hands and knees. Show Derek what a good boy you are.”

A quiver of heat stole down Stiles’s spine. He clumsily hastened to do as he was told, even going so far as to lean down so that his chest was pressed to the bed while his ass stuck up straight into the air. Face half buried in Derek’s covers, he marveled at the fact that he was once again in this position—especially after having been thrown out on his ass by the one he was currently baring it to.

Strange how the universe worked.

The room was uncomfortably quiet apart from the sound of breathing (mainly Stiles’s own).

_What the hell was wrong?_ Stiles thought anxiously, feeling the prickling of a nervous sweat about to break out on his skin.

“Hey, I know my ass is pretty much a work of art, but I didn’t think it was _that_ breathtaking,” he quipped, an effort to break the ice that seemed to be forming over their little moment.

Stiles heard the soft, familiar sound of Peter’s low chuckle and was about to throw a snide comment at him, but then the bed shifted—someone was moving forward—and Stiles started at a hesitant brush across the swell of his ass.

It definitely wasn’t Peter. Peter touched Stiles’s body as though he was entitled to it, but this? This was curiosity, this was discovering something new, this was _Derek_ looking at the most secret of places of Stiles’s body and for some reason Stiles was shy in a way he hadn’t felt since he’d taken off his clothes.

Self-conscious, Stiles blushed, almost mortified when he felt his hole flexing involuntarily.

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god._

What if Derek didn’t like how he looked?

Immediately, the logic-driven part of Stiles dismissed the thought with derision. _Not like how I look? It’s a fucking_ sphincter _, for Christ’s sake. They all look the_ same _._

He felt his cheeks being spread, further baring him to the world, and he held his breath, unable to think past a panicked internal litany of “ohmygod”. A gust of air against him made him choke.

“He won’t break, Derek,” Peter huffed impatiently.

_Yeah he might_ , Stiles wanted to say.

He was hardly a virgin anymore, but he felt antsy like one. Maybe it was from having a new partner?

Warm air fluttered over him before its meaning could register, and then something warm and solid passed over Stiles’s entrance in one long firm lick. Mindlessly, Stiles pushed back against it, his body eager and wanting before the rest of him could catch up, but he soon regained the presence of mind needed to force himself to stay still (well as still as he could manage anyway).

A quick stab through his clenching hole and Stiles forgot all about trying to restrain himself, arching to press his ass against Derek’s face without a trace of shame. At least he wasn’t the only one not bothering to hold back, though. Derek’s tongue was working him open with quick, rough jabs, as if the alpha was trying to get as much of it inside of the teen as he could to see just how ‘clean’ Stiles was.

God Stiles loved this, loved being eaten out. Before Peter, Stiles had questioned the loud moans and begging from the porn stars in his spank bank material, but after experiencing it himself—again and again and again—he could totally vouch for at least 85 percent of their authenticity.

Mostly because Stiles wasn’t a hypocrite. Or quiet.

Pain flared at the back of Stiles’s head as his hair was pulled, forcing him up onto his hands when his head was guided up, up, up and back. Open-mouthed and panting, Stiles blinked up at Peter, the older man’s gaze sharp with hunger.

“Beautiful,” Peter whispered, his eyes locked onto the teen’s face.

“Please,” Stiles gasped out, the awkward angle making him strain to get the words out. He wasn’t sure if he was asking for more or asking Peter to release him.

“’Please’?” Peter bent down to nuzzle at Stiles’s ear. “Please, what?” He nipped the outer curve, doing it again when Stiles didn’t respond as quickly as he liked.

“Please, more,” Stiles groaned out. As much as he liked being eaten out, eventually it ended up feeling like one big tease, driving him mad (in the best way, though). He needed this to move along before he finished alone. Again. There were two other hard cocks in the bed with him, there should be no reason for him to _not_ be filled with at least one of them.

Peter felt around for the lube, popping the cap open with his thumb. One of Derek’s hands let go of its hold on Stiles’s ass and the teen’s mental groan of relief turned into a physical one when, first one, then quickly two, slick fingers were delving into him, stretching and searching.

_Fucking_ finally, Stiles thought to himself, impatiently pushing back onto the fingers, not really caring that Peter had let go of his hair and moved away from him when, finally, some progress was being made towards Stiles’s goal of being filled with something.

A soft groan sounded behind him and, curious, Stiles twisted his neck and upper body enough to look and, _god_ , was he happy to look. Helpful as always, Peter had taken up the task of slicking up Derek’s cock for him, seeing as the alpha’s hands were a little busy. Practically plastered to Derek’s back, Peter pumped his hand up and down at a teasingly slow pace, whispering untold filth into his nephew’s ear as he stared at where Derek’s fingers were prepping Stiles’s hole, seeming to roll his hips against the alpha in time with the thrusts into the teen.

Stiles couldn’t look away from the sight of them. He was pretty sure he was drooling a bit, but between the live porn and the sensation of being filled, Stiles didn’t really care.

When Derek withdrew his fingers, a thread of disappointment wove through Stiles, but then the alpha was shifting forward on his knees, locking eyes with Stiles as the thick crown of his cock nudged into the teen’s loosened hole and pressed in in one long, slow slide—and Stiles just about forgot to breathe.

Ducking his head down to rest against the bed, Stiles struggled to relax, just breathe and relax, as his insides tried to adapt after not _quite_ being stretched enough. A light sweat began to breakout over his skin. He could take this. Peter had less than vanilla tastes in the bedroom and loved to press Stiles’s limits, from time to time. Rough sex had happened.

He could handle this.

After what felt like minutes, Derek’s inward thrust stopped and Stiles lay panting, not realizing that he was trembling until a large hand rubbed soothingly over his spine.

“Are you ok?” Derek asked, concern edging into the soft, strained rumble.

Stiles let out a laugh that sounded half-hysterical to his own ears. He couldn’t tell if the alpha was as on the edge of control as he sounded, but Stiles trusted Peter to be able to rein in his nephew if things got out of hand.

Oh god, he was trusting in Peter—a _beta_ —to control an alpha.

Someone upstairs had better be on Stiles’s side.

“We’re good,” Stiles edged out, his breathing starting to even out as he got used to the feel of Derek’s girth. He was just a _little_ wider than Peter, if he had to hazard a guess. Though they both were freight trains, regardless.

Apparently taking that as consent to continue, Derek carefully eased out as slow as he’d gone in. Then shoved back in. Hard.

Jaw dropped in a silent scream, Stiles fisted the covers, feeling like he’d had the breath knocked out of him as his insides stretched around the thick intruder again.

“ _Easy_ ,” Peter cautioned. “If you break him, then nobody gets to play with him.”

Well, at least personal gain was enough to make Peter worry about him. In a way, Stiles was flattered.

Kind of.

He just hoped that possessiveness would be enough to make him really step in should Derek’s control slip any worse.

Again, Derek slowly retreated, this time only an inch or so before rocking back in, building a steady rhythm that gradually drew out the length of his thrusts, giving Stiles more time to adapt to the pressure.

Bit by bit, pleasure tingled through Stiles, making him enjoy the primal ebb and flow of the motions.

A subtle tilt of hips and a firm thrust had Stiles barking out a moan, his prostate finally hit.

“That’s it,” Peter encouraged. “Again.”

Derek quickly obeyed. Stiles’s cock dripped freely now, eager at the prospect of coming despite the earlier pain.

“Harder,” Peter directed his nephew. “Make him _beg_ for it.”

Like a puppet under its master, Derek moved as Peter willed, grasping Stiles by the hips and punishingly angling into him, each brush against the teen’s bundle of nerves struggling to make Stiles forget any pain from the force Derek was using.

Stiles danced on the edge, but the thrusts weren’t enough to push him over, even though he tried to give himself over to sensation and let himself be pulled over by it, but it still wasn’t enough. He needed more, needed to be touched, and there was no way that Stiles could get his jelly-like arms out from under his chest to wrap around himself.

“Please.”

“What was that?” Peter purred, sounding so amused that Stiles wanted to hit him.

“Please touch me,” Stiles managed to choke out through a harsh thrust. God, he didn’t know if he could take this much longer. He needed to come, felt like he would burn up from the inside out without it.

“Touch you where?”

Derek’s thrusts became short and rabbit-fast, pounding into Stiles so hard that the teen could hardly think, much less speak.

“M-my co-cock,” Stiles stuttered out, his words rough under the onslaught. “Pleas-se t-ouch my c-cock.”

“Good boy.”

If a warm, tight grip hadn’t just closed around the base of his cock, giving it one firm pump, Stiles might have thought that he’d come from the praise alone. He jerked, his hips confused about whether to move forward into the hand around him or back onto the cock fucking him, and he ended up convulsing in place, groaning helplessly as he came all over the covers beneath him, finally thrown over the edge into pure pleasure.

Derek’s thrusts grew rough and shorter, then all at once he was pressing tight against Stiles’s ass, rolling his hips as though trying to bury himself just a _little_ deeper.

High as he was, Stiles didn’t immediately think anything of it when Derek stilled, believing that the alpha was coming as well. Then pressure started to build at Stiles’s hole, a sort of stretching sensation that was pulling the abused skin taut.

Instinctively, Stiles moved to pull away from the uncomfortable feeling, but was soon held in place not only by two pairs of hands but by the sensation itself, like an anchor or a lock keeping Stiles’s hole from moving away.

And that’s when it really hit him.

It was a _knot_. A freaking _knot_. Derek had _knotted_ him.

Dual feelings of fear and want warred within him.

Now, Stiles was a kinky person. He had researched a lot of sex-related topics, from vanilla positions to things that made you cock your head and squint in disbelief. So, naturally, he’d come across things like bestiality and specially-formed dildos and videos of people playing out animalistic scenarios. And, naturally, since he was aware that things like werewolves existed, Stiles had entertained fantasies of certain were-people with particular…attributes.

But no one had ever _confirmed_ the idea that werewolves could knot and if Peter had been able to, Stiles was positive the older man would have subjected him to it by now, and so he’d let the fantasy lie as just a fantasy.

Only apparently it wasn’t _just_ a fantasy at all.

And it was currently _inside_ him.

Stiles shook, the haze of his orgasm dissipating as his mind desperately tried to wrap around the reality of having a knot inside of him. The hands holding him in place started to stroke gently over him. It would have been calming if they didn’t reinforce the fact that his entrance was stretched almost the point of pain. The cramping in his thighs wasn’t helping either after holding his ass up in the air for so long. But the thing Stiles kept coming back to was that his ass was literally stuck on Derek Hale’s dick.

A cut-off groan came from behind him and Stiles craned his neck back to see what was going on, keeping his torso as still as he could so that he wouldn’t accidentally twist and hurt himself.

Derek’s eyes were clamped shut, a look of bliss on his otherwise lax face.

_He’s still coming_ , Stiles realized. He couldn’t really feel much outside of the intense pressure against his walls, but he hazarded that some of that must be because he was still being ‘filled up’.

“Just a minute or two longer,” Peter murmured, resting his chin on his nephew’s shoulder. “The knot doesn’t last that long. You’re doing fine.”

“So…were we supposed to talk about this or did I black out and miss the conversation?” Stiles said with a trace of sourness. He would have _preferred_ to know one of his partners’ dicks could blow up like a balloon animal. Sucking at communication must run in the family or something.

“Didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

Stiles stared at him incredulously until Peter shrugged and shifted out from behind Derek to lie beside the teen on the bed. His cock was still hard and heavy from lack of attention.

“Besides,” he continued once he got comfortable, “you didn’t seem to mind.”

Stiles’s eyes went wide. Seriously? “’Didn’t seem to’—? I didn’t exactly have time to get my vote in here,” he hissed.

“You don’t like it?”

The question came from behind Stiles, who craned his neck around just in time to see the hurt in Derek’s eyes be replaced with a quiet guilt before the alpha looked away.

“Nonono, I _do_ like it,” Stiles said, hurrying to soothe the older man’s hurt feelings, wondering at the same time what his heartbeat was giving away. “I just, y’know…would have liked to be in on the whole program we’ve got goin’ on here. I’m not very good with surprises.”

Not anymore, not after living in Beacon Hills for so long.

Hesitantly, Derek met his gaze, still guilt stricken. “I thought you knew. You’ve been messing around with Peter long enough. I figured he would have said something by now.”

There was a hint of sullenness in the comment about Stiles and Peter’s relationship, but it was washed out by outright accusation when the alpha turned his attention to Peter.

“Oh come on,” Peter huffed, sounding vaguely annoyed. “Like I was gonna get his pervy little brain’s hopes up over something that _I_ couldn’t give him. What he didn’t have to know, wouldn’t hurt him.”

“Ah, we live in Beacon Hills,” Stiles reminded him, settling back down. “What we don’t know can _kill us_.”

Derek groaned. A backward glance assured Stiles that the alpha once again was coming. Multiple orgasms and a dick that swelled up at the base? Stiles wasn’t sure whether to feel sorry for or envious of him.

“You would have made me get you an “exotic” toy so you could see what it felt like.” Peter sighed, as if put upon.

“I like the ‘toy’ you already have just fine, thank you,” Stiles muttered absently, paying more attention to where he was tied to Derek. Was the swell of the knot going down or was he just getting used to it?

“Really?”

The older man’s arm moved and Stiles followed the movement, licking his lips when Peter grasped his own cock and started jacking himself. “Yeah, I like it…”

“Maybe you should remind me,” Peter purred suggestively. At the teen’s head jerk of acceptance, he scooted over, placing his lap squarely in front of Stiles with legs splayed on either side of him.

Stiles wedged himself up onto his elbows to accommodate him (careful to not pull away from Derek too much), putting himself level with the slick head of Peter’s cock. Eagerly pulling the thick length into his mouth, Stiles hummed absently, enjoying the taste and weight of Peter.

Fellatio was something that Stiles was beginning to take pride in. Peter had allowed him all the practice he wanted after Stiles had sent a text about wanting to ‘improve his technique’. The upside for Stiles was that he got to indulge his undiagnosed oral fixation. The upside for Peter was that he got a lot of head. They hadn’t really found a downside yet.

“Jesus….”

Stiles’s move to check on Derek was stopped by Peter grasping his hair, keeping him from pulling off. Heat surged through him and his own spent cock twitched, taking interest at the rough treatment. Hair-pulling had turned into something of a _thing_ for Stiles while ‘practicing’ and Peter had been quick to pick up on it.

“Beautiful, isn’t he?” Peter smirked. “It’s one of the few things that can keep him quiet.”

“Why do I get the feeling he doesn’t talk much when you two are together?” Derek murmured, his breath ghosting over Stiles’s neck and shoulders as he bent over to watch, supporting himself with one hand on the bed while keeping the other tight around the teen’s hip.

“I’d say it’s about half and half.” Peter’s grip tightened as he took control of Stiles’s movements, guiding him up and down a little slower, holding him down around the base a little longer.

Stiles took it in stride, like he did with most of Peter’s whims. Though, at the moment, he was feeling rather… _rebellious_.

At the end of a downward slide, Stiles took as much of Peter into his relaxed throat—and started swallowing around him.

It had the desired effect. Peter choked off a curse, his hips bucking up slightly into the suction. Stiles had only recently gotten the hang of deep-throating, but every time he’d managed it, it hadn’t taken long before Peter lost it.

This time was no different, especially after waiting so long to come. A few more aborted thrusts and the older man was spilling down Stiles’s throat, the teen being careful to lick away any stray drops.

Releasing the spent cock, Stiles smirked up at Peter. “I know how to shut you up, too.”

Peter just laughed.

The pressure at Stiles’s entrance had shrank enough that, with a gentle tug, Derek’s cock finally slid free, soon followed by more come than Peter had ever shot into him.

Stiles winced, both from the mess he was making of Derek’s bed and the soreness in his ass. God, he’d _never_ felt this empty before. Driving home was going to be torture. So would be sitting in class. Lydia was never going to let him live this down.

Tired (and ignoring the half-hearted boner he was now sporting), Stiles submitted to Derek’s manhandling, letting the alpha lower him gently onto his back, thankfully avoiding both wet patches of come. Derek settled down on his side so that, once again, Stiles was bracketed by the two older men in the bed. This time, Stiles didn’t feel out of place.

It felt…nice.

“So…?” Peter drew out, looking at Stiles expectantly. “What do you think?”

“I’m supposed to be thinking right now?” Stiles sassed, feeling the beginnings of a nap pulling at him, making him drowsier with each second. “Pretty sure I just had my brain fucked out of me. You’ll have to wait until it comes back.”

“About this,” Peter continued, as though Stiles hadn’t said anything. He did that a lot. “About…adding another element to our play.”

Oh, that.

Honestly, Stiles was kind of surprised that he was being asked at all, considering how often Peter just went ahead and did as he pleased. Maybe later, when his brain wasn’t swimming in sex endorphins, he would have a minor freak-out about the ‘closeness’ in the remnants of the Hale family, but right now all he could think of was how _hot_ it had been when Peter had jacked Derek’s cock.

“I’m okay with it,” he said, noticing how Derek relaxed minutely beside him at the acceptance, like he had been worried Stiles was going to put his foot down and say no to whatever _this_ was. Stiles couldn’t have kicked a puppy any more than he could have sent Derek away.

But it wasn’t a pity thing. Derek had been accepted on merit.

And by merit, he meant how well the alpha could work a guy into the sheets.

“But next time, we’re setting up a video camera,” Stiles threw out while he still had the nerve, unsurprised when the idea drew two less-than-enthusiastic groans.

He wanted to cross off another thing off his kink list and now he had something _really_ camera-worthy.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Alright guys, comments and criticisms welcome. Tumblr handle is collared-fantasies, I'm on there about as much as here.


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